On the Monday morning, a troop of the gloveress girls flocked into Charlotte East's. They were taking holiday, as was usual with them on Mondays. Charlotte was a favourite. It is true, she "bothered" them, as they called it, with good advice, but they liked her in spite of it. Charlotte's kitchen was always tidy and peaceful, with a bright fire burning in it: other kitchens would be full of and dirt. Charlotte never let them hinder her; she worked away at her gloves all the time. Charlotte was a glove-maker; that is, she sewed the fingers together, and put in the thumbs, forgits, and . Look at your own gloves, English made. The long strips running up inside the fingers are the forgits; and the little pieces between, where the fingers open, are the quirks. The gloves Charlotte was occupied with now were of a very dark green colour, almost black, called corbeau in the trade, and they were sewn with white silk. Charlotte's stitches were as beautifully regular as though she had used a patent machine. The white silk and the fellow glove to the one she was making, lay inside a clean white handkerchief doubled upon her lap; other gloves, equally well covered, were in a basket at her side.  
The girls had come in noisily, with flushed cheeks and eager eyes. Charlotte saw that something was exciting them. They liked to tell her of their little difficulties and pleasures. Betsy Carter had informed her mother that there was going to be a "party at the Alhambra tea-gardens," if you remember; and this was the point of interest to-day. These "Alhambra tea-gardens," however formidable and perhaps suggestive the name, were very innocent in reality. They belonged to a quiet roadside inn, half a mile from the town, and comprised a large garden and extensive lawn. The view from them was beautiful; and many a party from Helstonleigh, far higher in the scale of society than these girls, would go there in summer to take tea and enjoy the view. A young, tall, handsome girl of eighteen had her chair close to Charlotte's. She was the half-sister of Mark Mason, and had her home with him and his wife; supporting herself after a fashion by her work. But she was always in debt to them, and she and Mrs. Mark did not get along well together. She wore a new shawl, and straw trimmed with blue ribbons: and her dark hair fell in ringlets—as was the fashion then. Two other girls perched themselves on a table. They were sisters—Amelia and Mary Ann Cross; others placed themselves where they could. Somewhat light were they in manner, these girls; free in speech. Nothing farther. If an unhappy girl did, by mischance, turn out badly, or, as the phrase had it, "went wrong," she was forthwith , and shunned for ever. Whatever may have been the faults and failings in Honey Fair, this sort of wrong-doing was not common amongst them.
 
"Why, Caroline, that is new!" exclaimed Charlotte East, to the shawl.
 
Caroline Mason laughed. "Is it not a beauty?" cried she. And it may be remarked that in speech and accent she was superior to some of the girls.
 
Charlotte took a corner of it in her hand. "It must have cost a pound at least," she said. "Is it paid for?"
 
Again Caroline laughed. "Never you mind whether it's paid for or not, Charlotte. You won't be called upon for the money for it. As I told my sister-in-law yesterday."
 
"You did not want it, Caroline; and I am quite sure you could not afford it. Your winter cloak was good yet. It is so bad a plan, getting goods on credit. I wish those Bankeses had never come near the place!"
 
"Don't you run down Bankes's, Charlotte East," interposed Eliza Tyrrett, a very plain girl, with an ill-natured expression of face. "We should never get along at all if it wasn't for Bankes's."
 
"You would get along all the better," returned Charlotte. "How much are they going to charge you for this shawl, Caroline?"
 
Caroline and Eliza Tyrrett exchanged glances. There appeared to be some secret between them, connected with the shawl. "Oh, a pound or so," replied Caroline. "What was it, Eliza?"
 
Eliza Tyrrett burst into a loud laugh, and Caroline echoed it. Charlotte East did not press for the answer. But she did press the matter against with Bankes's; as she had pressed it many a time before.
 
A twelvemonth ago, some strangers had opened a linen-draper's shop in a back street of Helstonleigh; brothers of the name of Bankes. They to do business upon credit, and to wait upon people at their own homes, after the fashion of hawkers. Every Monday would one of them appear in Honey Fair, a great pack of goods on his back, which would be opened for at each house. Caps, shawls, gown-pieces, calico, , and finery, would be displayed in all their . Now, you who are reading this, only reflect on the temptation! The women of Honey Fair went into debt; and it was three parts the work of their lives to keep the finery, and the system, from the knowledge of their husbands.
 
"Pay us so much weekly," Bankes's would say. And the women did so: it seemed like getting a gown for nothing. But Bankes's were found to be strict in collecting the instalments; and how these weekly payments told upon the wages, I will leave you to judge. Some would have many shillings to pay weekly. Charlotte East and a few more ones against this system; but they made no impression. The temptation was too great. Charlotte............